The End of Something
by Martin Baker
Summary: There's a time when love can see you through everything, and a time when one must move on to bigger and better things. Follow Harry and Draco through the love story of a lifetime. R. and R.
1. Chapter 1

NOW

The day was cold and solemn. Rain beat against the windows of a small flat that overlooked the river. Draco sat by himself, looking around the bedroom he once shared with Harry. Five years they had lived together. Five years they laughed and wept, loved and feared, fought and dreamed, and now Harry was gone. He was gone like a flash of lightning, gone like the last rays of a summer sun, and the sudden finality of Harry's absence left Draco stunned.

Everything seemed so empty now. All of Harry's possessions were gone, giving the room an erey, half-finished quality. A strand of Harry's black hair still clung to what had been his pillow, and Draco plucked it carefully. Just as carefully, he placed it in a small leather pouch he wore about his neck beneath his robes. A thumbnail-sized portrait of Harry was kept there, along with half of a smooth shell Draco had found on one of their trips to the seaside. Harry kept the other half,Draco knew.

At last, he stood, walking to the livingroom. Too many memories haunted the bedroom, and Draco thought perhaps he could maintain some measure of sanity by remaining in the livingroom for a long while. He thought wrong. Harry's favorite sweater lay forgotten on one of the hard-backed chairs in the livingroom's adjoining kitchen. A cold cup of coffee and an open coppy of The Dailly Proffit also served as a testament to Harry's having been at the round kitchen table only hours ago.

Any moment now, some part of Draco's mind knew Harry would walk back through the front door. Harry would apologize and say he never should have left, that his place was here. Draco would apologize too, no matter how against his nature it was, and say that it was his own damn fault for driving Harry to leave their home in the first place. They would make love like it was the first time and never never fight again. But Harry did not come back. Moments turned into minutes and minutes to hours. On a wall across from the front door, a clock ticked on dismally, propelling its hands along in their slow and endless race.

The doorbell rang, and Draco slowly walked to answer it. Damn! If only the curtins were shut! Then, Draco could pretend he was not home and the visitor would go away. It wasn't Harry. Harry had a key, and anyone who would require the use of a doorbell was not worth Draco's time. He unlocked the bottom lock, slid back the deadbolt, inched the door open, and froze.

"Father?"

Lucius Malfoy stood just beyond the threashhold against the dark blue backdrop of the night sky. "Draco," he responded. "May I come in?"

Feelings rose and fought in him. Embarrassment. This little flat was far different from the magestic manor usually associated with a Malfoy. Anger. When Draco finally got up the nerve to come out with his and Harry's relationship, Father had disowned him. Now, when it was convenient, now, when Harry was gone, Father wanted something to do with his son again. Relief. Even Father's company was better than the empty loneliness Harry left behind. Now that Pansy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Blaze were no longer speaking to him or he to them, he had nobody. Self hatred. Draco had promised! He had promised Harry he would have nothing more to do with his family, and now here he was seriously considering allowing Father entrance to what had been their home.

"Fine," Draco said at last, giving Father his best bored expression. "Make it quick." Maybe if he was mean to Father, Harry wouldn't mind? Maybe?

Lucius stepped inside, closing the door softly behind him. "Draco," he said softly "I heard about you and Potter."

"I thought as much," Draco said dryly. "Now what do you want?"

"I wanted to tell you how sorry I am for your loss, son."

"Oh," Draco said, shrugging "so now I'm your son again? Now that I'm not with Harry, is that it? I know you're not sorry for my loss, Father, and in any case, it doesn't matter. Harry will be back."

"I hope so," Lucius said "for your sake. No Draco, I don't like Potter. I've never liked him, and I never made that a secret. If he made you happy, then I hope his return is swift, but do you know what I think?"

"I don't," Draco said defiantly, unable to meet his father's frank gaze "but I'm sure you'll tell me."

"Do you not want me to tell you, Draco?" Lucius asked. "Because I won't. I know I've always pushed my opinions on you. I know that's what drove you away, so I'll not do it again. You have my word."

"What do you want?" Draco asked again. "You are wasting my time."

"Draco, I want you to come home. Wait. Before you protest as I know you want to, hear me out. Malfoy Manor is a big place. If you don't want to, you don't even have to see your mother or me, but come home. You're all alone here. I'm worried."

"You've never been one for such sentiments," Draco said coldly. "You want me home because it would look well on you in front of all your former DeathEater friends. Leave me!"

"If that's what you want, then I will go. Is it?"

"Of course it is!" Draco said, annoyed. "If it wasn't, I wouldn't have told you to, would I?"

"I want to hear you say it," Lucius told him. "I want you to look into my eyes and say 'I want you to leave' so I know it is the truth. Can you do that?"

"Fine!" Draco said heatedly, lifting his eyes from the carpeted floor. "I want -- I want you to -- You should leave now!"

"You can't," Lucius said softly "can you? Come home, Draco." Lucius closed the distance between them, took hold of his son by the shoulders, and disapperated.

"How dare you?" Draco said indignantly when they appeared in the entryway of Malfoy Manor.

"If you want to," Lucius said calmly "you can apperate back to your flat. I can't stop you, you know. You're a grown man now."

Draco was furious, but Merlin, how relieved he was! This wasn't his fault. Father had forced him, dragged him here against his will. Now, Harry wouldn't be mad at him for it. How tired he was of Harry always being mad at him for one thing or another. Oh why couldn't he ever be good enough! No matter what Draco did, Harry always found some source of displeasure. This was not Harry's fault, Draco knew. It was his own fault for being too needy, too distant, too lazy, too involved in work, not attentive enough, not social enough, too happy, too sad, too angry, too void of emotion, not involved enough with the baby, too pushy, and not assertive enough.

"I'm already here," Draco said, looking about him at all the polished surfaces, fountains and statuary he had missed. "But as soon as you do something to make me angry or say something spiteful about Harry, I'm gone. That won't take long., I'm sure."

"We'll see about that, won't we?" Lucius chuckled. "Draco, do you want me to give you your privacy, or will you come talk with me in my study?"

Privacy? That was the last thing Draco wanted right now! But how could he explain going willingly with his father to Harry if he ever returned? Maybe he could say that he talked with his father in an attempt to clear Harry's name. Harry would like that, wouldn't he? Of course he would!

"Draco?" Lucius asked, concerned. "What is it? You look troubled."

"Troubled?" Draco shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. "Wouldn't you be troubled if somebody took you somewhere against your will? Sure. I'll talk with you until you say something idiotic."

"Very well then," Lucius conceded, walking in the direction of his study. Draco followed in silence, ignoring the stares of the house elves, portraits, and servants as he passed.

Entering the familiar room, Draco sat in a chair across from his father. "Tea?" Lucius asked.

"Fine," Draco said, looking everywhere at once. How filled with memories this room was. When he was a boy, Draco would spend hours here, watching his father work. Sometimes, when Father was not feeling particularly cross, the two of them would paint and color together. As Draco grew older, Father's study became a place for serious talks. Father never hit him here, nor did he yell or hex him. Hitting, yelling, and hexing were reserved for the Red Parlor. Here, they talked about grades, dating, Quidditch, friends, and other things. Here was where Draco told Father he was gay with Harry. As usual, Lucius did not hurt him here. Instead, he took the discussion to the Red Parlor.

With a flick of his wand, Lucius set the tea things to prepare themselves. Two hot cups of tea floated to the desk, setting themselves in front of each man. "Now," Lucius said, stirring sugar into his tea. "Let's talk about Potter."

"Harry?" Draco asked, also stirring. "What about him?"

"Everything," Lucius replied. "I know how you met, but how in Merlin's name did you, -- that is, --" Lucius searched for a politically correct way to phrase the question.

"Do you mean how did we get together?" Draco asked.

"Right."

Draco looked reflectively into his tea. Should he tell Father everything? If he did, could Harry ever forgive him? Was he even worth forgiveness? Was he even worth anything?

Lucius wiped a tear from his son's cheek with a gentle hand, and Draco flinched instinctively. "Draco," Lucius said gently "tell me everything. Tell me about you and your -- Harry."

Harry? Did Father just call him Harry? Draco set his tea cup on the table, folded his hands and began the long tale that would eventually lead to the present, to the end of something.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note:

First of all, I don't remember if I put a disclaimer on chapter one. If not, then I do not own Harry Potter. The characters are the Propperty of J.K Rouling.

Next, I would like to give a big squishy thank you to my lovely wife for publishing chapter one for me.

A deafening round of applause goes to my vastly talented beta reader, Lady Lily Malfoy.

Peaches, my future co-writer, NEEDS TO UPDATE.

Lani Evans, thanks for the review! Sadly, I cannot find you on the site, so please PM me with the pairing you write and the rating. That way, I can find you and review back.

To everyone who asks how Harry and Draco met, don't you remember? First book? Robe shop? Don't worry. Starting Chapter three, I will tell about how they came to be lovers.

Chapter Two

Now

"Harry." Lily Potter placed a gentle kiss on her son's forehead. "Harry darling, it's time to get up."

Harry groaned, stretched, yawned, opened his eyes, and looked up. Shafts of morning sunlight filtered through the grimy curtins, adding a golden, ethereal beauty to his mother as they shown through her. Harry knew it was morning. In one corner of the room, his six-month-old daughter, Annabella,was beginning to stir in her cradle.

"Do you want me to tend her, Harry?" Lily asked.

"Would you?" he asked with a tired smile.

"Of course, darling," Lily said, patting his cheek. "Leave your body here with me and go play Quidditch with your father."

"Thanks Mum," Harry said, stepping out of his skin and hovering in the air beside her.

"Any time, darling," she said sweetly. Lily hugged her son close, kissing him on both cheeks before stepping easily in to the body he so recently vacated. "Spend the day with your father, darling. I'll have dinner ready for you when you return, and Bella can spend some much needed time with her favorite grandma."

Harry laughed. "You're her only grandma."

Lily rose, walking in Harry's body to the cradle and lifting the baby. Harry floated to them, kissing his little daughter's head before walking through the wall and in to the early morning air.

James Potter sat on a broom as transparent as he was, hovering close to the ground. Beside him, an identical broom hovered, waiting for its rider. "Harry!" James leapt lightly to earth and floated to embrace his son.

"Hi Dad," Harry said, returning the embrace.

"How are you holding up, kid?" James asked, running a hand through Harry's unruly black hair.

"Okay, I guess," Harry replied absently. "How long have you been out here?"

"Oh," said James "since sunrise. I was playing a game of Quidditch with Cedric."

"Cedric?" Harry stiffened. "Cedric's back? Now? Well, it's a little too late, isn't it?"

"I don't know what went on between you and Cedric, Harry," James said with a look of concern "but he gave me a message for you." Harry waited. "He wanted me to tell you that it isn't his job to hurt you for Malfoy's amusement."

Tears of shame and rage stung the backs of Harry's eyes. Why couldn't Draco love him? Why did he always want to be with Cedric while saying he only wanted Harry? Life was so unfair! Everyone Harry ever loved either died or left him.

If it weren't for his parents, Sirius, Cedric, and Professor Dumbledore, Harry didn't know where he'd be right now. Nobody else, not even ghosts, could see them, but they had helped him through so much. All through his turbulent relationship with Draco, they had been there, advising, protecting, and making him laugh through the hard times.

Harry sighed, recollecting. There had been so many hard times over the past five years. Draco was never happy, never satisfied. This was because Draco was unable to love only one person at a time. Infidelity was in Draco's nature, Harry knew, and sometimes the knowledge sickened him. Countless times, Harry should have left him, and countless times, he stayed on, loving Draco for what he could be and hoping against all odds that he would change. But Draco never changed. Draco never tried to make their love work, nor did he ever try to master the evil within himself.

"Harry?" James asked. "What's on your mind?"

"Huh?" Harry shook his head in a vain attempt to clear it. "Oh, just stuff."

"Malfoy stuff?" James asked.

"Yeah," Harry answered with a forced smile. "I was with the basterd for five years. That makes him kinda hard to forget."

James searched for the words he wanted, the words to drive the pain from Harry's haunted emerald eyes. "Ah well, you'll be just fine," he said at last, returning to his broom and taking a snitch from his pocket. "Now mount up so I can royally kick your ass."

"We'll see." Harry smiled, genuinely this time, and swung one leg over his broom. "If you were still alive, you'd be an old geezer by now. That's gotta slow down your reflexes."

James laughed, rocketing into the air and throwing the snitch high. Harry was right behind him, and the two former seakers began racing after the snitch.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's note:

Another thunderous round of applause to Lady Lily Malfoy, my amazing beta reader! Any spelling mistakes, and I'm sure there are many, are most definitely not her fault.

To Mary, my lovely wife, thank you for your blunt review! I suppose Draco did take the easy way out in Chapter One, but, in that situation, I might have done the exact same thing.

Peaches, my tentative future co-writer, don't despair! "There's a fic for us. Somewhere a fic for us." (weird reference to West Side Story **lol**)

Jonadark, my faithful reviewer of both chapters without being my friend first, let's change that! Please PM me with the pairing you write in and it's rating so I can read and review you!

Have fun, everyone!

Chapter Three

Then

"Pansy Parkinson, I'm never coming out again!" Draco yelled through the bathroom door. "Never never never!" Pansy laughed and Draco stamped his foot. "You're laughing at me!"

"Well?" Pansy asked. "You're funny. Now come out here and let me do your makeup."

"But Pansy," Draco protested, still hidden within the sanctuary of the bathroom "don't you see? I'm a Malfoy! This is very undignified! What if someone recognizes me? What if my father finds out?"

"Nobody will recognize you, Mr. Self-Concious," Pansy reassured. "The dress and wig fit like they were made for you, and with the way I fix your makeup, you'll look and feel like a whole new person."

Draco sighed, considering. If he didn't come out, Pansy would bug him about it all night long. Besides, who in their right mind would willingly spend an entire Saturday night locked in the bathroom? On the other hand, what if somebody recognized him? What if the whole wizarding world found out that Draco Lucius Malfoy had been caught wearing women's clothing?

Draco had never planned on taking this fascination with cross dressing public. He had intended to buy one pair of lacy woman's panties in hopes that it would be all he needed to get this odd inclination out of his system. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how he looked at it, Pansy was shopping for underwear on the same day and at the same place as Draco.

Rather than being horrified to discover her friend's effeminate nature, Pansy was thrilled. All of her dearest friends were guys, and this left nobody for Pansy to do girl things with. For three weeks now, Pansy had been pleading with him to cross dress and go dancing with her, and for three weeks, Draco had declined for fear of being found out.

At last, Pansy's continuous pouting, flirting, and flattery wore down Draco's wall of resistance. The girl had ways of being very persuasive when she wanted to. Still, Draco had a bad feeling about it. For some unexplainable reason, Draco knew if he went through with this evening's plans, his life would be changed forever. Draco was never one who liked change, so this nagging premonition unnerved him.

"Draco?" Pansy called. "Come on!"

He could hear her tapping her long red nails impatiently against the doorframe. "All right all right," he said, slowly unlocking the door and swinging it open dramatically.

Pansy gasped, looking with wide eyes at her friend in his new clothes. The dress was a soft blue, velvet to the waist and satin to Draco's feet. Swirls of lace were worked against the satin, giving the dress the elusion of movement. The wig was the same silvery blond as Draco's real hair. It fell in waves down his back. His shoes were blue like the dress. They were low heals made from a shining material that caught the light, making them shimmer.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"Wow!" Pansy smiled her approval, reaching out a hand to touch the dress. She had seen the dress, shoes, and wig on him separately, but together, augmented by the silicon breasts and the waist-trimming corset, they worked to make Draco look more like a girl than she did.

"Thanks." Draco returned her smile. "You're not so bad yourself."

Pansy wore a dress made from a sparkling silver material that clung to her, falling to her mid-calf. The neckline was low-cut and heart-shaped, a direct contrast to Draco's simple scoop neck. Starting atop her left shoulder and working backwards, a green band of velvet rapped about her, twisting, snake-like around her curvey form and terminating in front at the top of her right thigh.

"Draco," the little raspy voice in his head whispered "wouldn't you like to throgh her on the ground and ravage her?"

"What?" Draco was so surprised by the question that he answered it out loud.

"Tom giving you trouble again?" Pansy asked with a grin.

Draco nodded. Tom, the little voice in Draco's head, had been bugging him since his sixth year at Hogwarts. Only Pansy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Blaze knew about him. Draco could tell nobody else for fear they would think him mad and send him to Saint Mungo's. Draco knew he needed help. He knew that his quality of life could not be as perfect as he wished it if he did not somehow get rid of Tom. Still, his fear of the wizarding hospital for magical malodies with its sterilized atmosphere, magical and non-magical restraints, and doctors analyzing him every second of the day, kept him silent. Perhaps he could find a way to rid himself of Tom with help from noone.

Though his four best friends did not understand why Draco was hearing voices, they didn't judge him for it. Each had a friendship with Tom that was separate from their friendships with Draco himself. When Tom would shift to the front of Draco's mind, sometimes Draco would watch, sitting in the background with his thoughts as his mental cellmate roamed the world as though he owned it. Other times, the cold that always came with Tom's taking control compelled Draco to seak refuge in sleep. While asleep, Draco knew not what Tom did, and he felt not the death-like cold that surrounded Tom like a mantal.

Draco felt safe enough to sleep because Tom's behavior did not worry him. Tom's heir of superiority and confidence was not out of keeping with the proper conduct of a Malfoy. When Tom would take control of Draco's mind, Father was always so proud of him. Tom could play Quidditch better, carry himself in public with more dignity, work harder, take pain better, and outdo Father in many a match of whits. Because of Tom's abilities, Draco often asked him to take control. Other times, Tom would take control by force, and still other times, Draco would be the one forcefully taking control. The two were equals, so it was anyone's guess who would be in the forefront of Draco's mind on any given day.

Draco felt the shift of control beginning again. Hot to cold, cold to colder, until his thoughts puffed like clouds of vaper as he slid back into the deep darkness.

Tom straightened, adjusting to the boy's warmth. He liked the beating of his living heart and the way it felt to breathe. He liked the use of Draco's sharp vision and the lushus picture of female perfection it showed him.

"Tom, I presume? Pansy asked, obviously sure of what the answer would be.

"Ah, Miss Parkinson," Tom said in ecknowlegement, running a hand down the pronounced curve of her profile. "How succulent you look this evening."

Pansy smiled, leaning into his hand as the other came around her waist. "Will you be devouring me, then?"

"Be careful what you wish for, Miss Parkinson," Tom warned her.

He pulled the girl to him, licking down the side of her neck. She shivered, planting a chain of kisses along his jawline. He felt the length of her pressed against him, and the world began to turn red.

An hour later, Tom laid a kiss on Pansy's brow, looking down at her with smiling eyes. "I warned you, didn't I?"

"Tom, do I ever heed your warnings?" she asked through half-closed eyes, twining her arms about his neck. "If I did, look at all the fun we'd miss!"

He laughed, a laugh that would have chilled anyone else, but Pansy only smiled, rolling gracefully back to a sitting position. Taking her wand from her pocket, she muttered a spell that ironed the wrinkles and mended the tears in their garments.

"Now," she said "be a good boy and get Draco, will you? We simply must get to the Purple Dragon tonight."


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note,

A round of very enthusiastic applause goes to Lady Lily Malfoy, my vastly talented beta reader. Hey! Where are you?

To Peaches, my future co-writer, keep writing! Everyone needs to read her new story, "Touch of the Fallen One." Maybe if we all bug her to, she'll update quicker. **Lol**

To my lovely bride, Mary, I love you forever! You said the last Harry chapter was too short, so you'll be happy to know that I devoted as much attention to Harry in this chapter as I did Draco in Chapter One. Oh, and where's that next chapter of "Someone for Hagrid?" Yes everyone, my dear wife is writing an absolutely adorable Hagrid fic that she never updates!

To Ashley. Sorry Pans, but I don't know your right pen name. All I know is that you read this. I have yet to read your huge fic, but you know I will!

To Jonadark, my loyal reviewer of two chapters who disappeared, Come Back! I do so like your feedback, you know.

To Lani Evans, are you alive?

To Golden Pheonix12, thanks for the positive, all be it short, review. I look forward to reading your fics, but I need you to send me the rating you write in and the pairing so I can find you cause I'm a dork and can't use the search option on this thing.

That goes for everyone. If you want me to review you back as much as I want you to do so, include your pairing and its rating so I can find you. Enjoy Chapter Four!

Then

"You say he's a fagot. Does it make you want to hurt him? You say he's a fagot. Does it make you wanna kick in his brain? You say he's a fagot. Does it make you sick to your stomach? You say he's a fagot. Are you afraid you're just the same? Fagot? Fagot? Do you hate him cause he's pieces of you?"

The song was Pieces of You by some muggle singer named Jewel, and Harry hated it. It filled the small car, and there was no escaping it. Why did Dean and Seamus have such terrible taste in music?

"How are you holding up, Mate?" Cedric asked from beside him.

"Not good," Harry answered in his mind. "Cedric, this is a nightmare!"

"I know, I know," his friend said sympathetically. "I'm right here with you. Just hang in there, Harry. Can you do that?"

"I-I think so," Harry answered uncertainly. "But look at this place!"

Looking at the multi-colored building up ahead, Harry was less than thrilled. This was Dean's idea, and Harry wondered again why in Merlin's name he had let himself be talked in to it. Harry was most definitely not a homo, and the flashing neon sign proclaiming that THE PURPLE DRAGON was the hottest gay dance party in town did nothing to soothe his throbbing nerves.

This evening had been a trying one, as evenings always were when Harry was in the company of Dean and Seamus. They were his friends, but Harry did not approve of their lifestyle. It disgusted him to see the way they held hands, opened doors for each other, and exchanged glances that were too long for Harry to explain away as friendly commeroddery. They had even gone so far as to make their perversion somewhat legal. Instead of Dean Thomas and Seamus Finagin, they had become Mr. And Mr. Thomas-Finagin. Harry hoped one day they would come to their senses, but he doubted this would happen. The two were so intermeshed in their sudo marriage that there looked to be no chance of their disentangling.

"So tell the truth, Harry," Seamus said, breaking in to his somewhat self-pitying thoughts. "Are ya excited for tonight even a little?"

"No," Harry said flatly "but fair is fair."

Dean laughed. "Do you think you'll be taking us to any more straight clubs, Harry?"

"Not a chance in hell," Harry said Dryly. "Last time was a disaster."

"As we told you it would be," Dean said smugly.

Harry reddened, shuddering at the memory of that horrible night. He had taken Dean and Seamus to a nice wholesome dance club filled with nice wholesome girls in hopes that they would come to understand how wrong their sexual preference truly was. For the sake of fairness, Harry had promised that if they did not enjoy themselves, he would accompany them to any gay bar of their choice. It was this promise alone that convinced Dean and Seamus to accompany Harry into the world of functional heterosexuals. Harry hadn't been worried then. He knew with absolute certainty that once Dean and Seamus were emerced in the real world, they would never want to set foot in a gay establishment again. How wrong he had been!

While at the club, Dean and Seamus did indeed meet many beautiful and very heterosexual girls, but instead of future conquests, they all agreed to be bride's maids at the so-called wedding. Seamus was the "bride", so it was he who left with the large group of girls to discuss all the feminen details a bride must discuss with her bride's maids.

Dean kissed Seamus before he left with his female anterage, and instead of positively peer pressuring the two men to seak female companionship, everyone around awed and talked about how nice it was that gayness was so accepted now. Nice? Harry saw nothing nice about it, and now, he was going to The Purple Dragon, one of those festering pits of sin that filled his nightmares in ways that Voldemort never could.

His cousin Dudley had tried to be gay with him once, but Harry would have none of it. Still, the memory hurt and frightened him. Dudly had entered Harry's room while he slept and climbed in to bed with him. Harry had awakened to the pressure of Dudley's full weight atop him, and he had screamed. Aunt Petunia, probably thinking the scream had been Dudley's, ran down the hall and burst through Harry's door. Seeing her dear son lying naked atop a very vehemently struggling Harry, she lost all respect for him.

Dudley's life then became as hard as Harry's had always been, and Harry's life, while not as lavishly easy as Dudley's had been, became relatively more tolerable. Harry was now the favorite boy of the Dersley household, for though Uncle Vernan and Aunt Petunia hated magic, they hated gayness more. Magic, by comparison, was mild, and though Harry had a hard time understanding their twisted logic, he liked being seen as a person rather than a dark blot in Dudley's shadow.

"We're here," Seamus said brightly. "Are ya feeling super yet, Harry?"

"Breathe," Cedric told him, draping a comforting arm around his stiff shoulders. "It's one night, Harry. One night with the gay people, and then you can forget it ever happened. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Yes," Harry said aloud in answer to Cedric's question that neither Dean nor Seamus heard.

"That's the spirit," Dean said with a grin. "Now, come on!"

Dean pulled the bright red car into a parking space near the door and stopped. This was it. In mere seconds, Harry Potter would be surrounded with more gayness than he ever had in his whole life. He opened his door and slowly got out of the car. Dragging his feet, he followed Dean and Seamus through the doors. A tall, heavily-muscled woman stood just inside, and Dean Payed her a handful of gallions for their entrence.

Closely following Dean and Seamus to a table, so as not to let anyone think he was single and or gay, Harry felt a light tap on his shoulder. He turned, looking into the heavily made up face of a wizard in drag.

"Hey sexy!" the homo chirped "wanna dance?"

"No!" Harry said a little sharply. "Uh, no thanks. I don't dance." He sat heavily, looking at the purple menu of drinks in the middle of the table. He was definitely gonna need a drink, and it was gonna be a strong one.

"Not a chance, Pansy Parkinson!" a girl shouted from across the room.

Eager for a distraction, Harry looked, hoping against hope it wouldn't be a dike he saw. To his surprise, it wasn't. The girl with Parkinson was beautiful and radiant. If she was a dike, she wasn't a bulldike like the bouncer at the door. Maybe later, with a few drinks in him, Harry would approach her. With these fems, there was at least some measure of hope for them to see reason and embrace heterosexuality. Harry knew about these things.

"Aww come on, Dray Dray!" Parkinson protested. "What harm could it do?"

Harry was farely sure Dray Dray wasn't the girl's whole name, but he wondered what it was short for. Andrea perhaps? Parkinson proceeded to propel the girl across the room in Harry's direction. Harry watched, goggle-eyed, as the pair came closer and closer. Harry could feel his tongue thicken in his mouth and knew that speaking to the girl would be impossible. This Dray Dray, this vision in blue was so beautiful and pure that Harry was beside himself with a tender admiration that took his breath away. She was the kind of girl who wouldn't marry a guy without her daddy's consent, the kind of girl who loved Jesus, and her mamma, and old people, and horses, and rain, and star gazing. Harry knew about these things. Harry knew her type, and those like her were so rare that to see one here amid all this corruption shocked him.

For the second time tonight, Harry felt a light tap on his shoulder, but this time, he didn't have to turn around. He was looking in to the broadly-smiling face of Pansy Parkinson. She held the girl firmly by the hand, and Harry wondered for a sickening moment if they were lovers. "Excuse me, Potter," Pansy said "but would you dance with my friend here?

"Uh, sure," Harry said, getting up awkwardly from his chair and waving goodbye to Dean and Seamus. "Come on." Harry took the girl by the hand and lead her out on to the dance floor. "So, what's your name?" he asked.

"I'm Dray – uh, --" the girl said uncertainly.

"Drayia," Harry repeated softly. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Harry."

"I-I know," Drayia said, flushing slightly. "I sort of went to school with you."

"You did?" Harry asked, taking another look at the lovely girl as he took her in his arms for a slow dance. "What house were you in? I was a Gryfindor, but I guess you knew that."

"Yeah," she said "the famous Potter. You were kind of a celebrity, you know."

Harry made a face. "Yeah. Don't remind me."

"What with being The Boy Who Lived and defeating the big bad Lord Voldemort," the girl said with a grin "it's no wonder. But don't worry. You look pretty average up close."

"Really?" Harry asked. "Thanks!" He didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed. All his life, Harry had wanted nothing more than to be normal. Now, this Drayia, though she was obviously quite taken with him, thought him normal. "So," he said after an awkward silence "what house were you in, Drayia?"

"House?" she asked.

"Yeah, house," Harry said arching an eyebrow. "You know. The place you lived during your time at Hogwarts?"

"Oh!" Drayia laughed nervously. "That house! I was a, um, Slytherin."

"Slytherin," Harry repeated. "I wouldn't have guessed. You're not the type, but I guess you got that all the time back then."

Drayia flushed again, and Harry thought she should do it all the time. It became her so, the red suffusing the soft whiteness of her cheaks, making them look like rosepettles. "No," she said "I must say nobody ever told me I wasn't the type for Slytherin."

"You weren't in Malfoy's croud, were you?" Harry asked. "He was my arch enemy, you know."

"Yeah," she said, matching his gaze "I was. Draco and I are very close."

Harry was shocked. "But you're so nice and he's so, so Malfoy!"

"What's that supposed to mean, Potter?" she asked, stiffening.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note:

To my vastly talented beta reader, Lady Lily Malfoy, I think you must be lost! No worry. Just send up a flair and I'll send a search party to find you.

To Mireille, my little future co-writer, where is chapter three of "Touch of the Fallen One"? I know you gave some bla bla excuse about it being delayed, but I want it! **Smiles** No pressure.

To GoldenPhoenix 12, so far, I'm loving your "Harry Potter and the Quest for Peace."

To Jonadark, it is always a joy to hear from you.

And to my lovely bride, I miss you! Come home safe and sound, and bring our bouncing baby with you. I still find your dislike for poor Draco a bit disconcerting. Really, now. HE'S NOT THAT BAD!

The poem is just a little something I wrote a while ago. I thought it fit well with this chapter.

Chapter Five

How can you believe in me,

When ugliness is all you see?

And how can you believe that I,

Can hold you as you gently lie,

And tell me things I want to hear,

From year to never-changing year?

If you are a martyr, be gone from me,

If you are a saint, then fly on broken wings,

Away from my not so perfect door,

I'll hear from you of my mistakes no more.

Forgive or forsake,

This is the choice you've left to make,

Believe or be gone,

The past is the past, I must move on.

Then

"Well," Potter said uncertainly "it's just that…"

"Just that what?" Draco wanted to know. He was furious! They had been getting on so nicely up till now!

"Well," Potter said again "Malfoy has always set me up to fail. It's nothing personal against you, I assure you. I respect that you like him and all that."

"Nothing against me?" Draco gave a dry and humorless laugh. "Potter Potter Potter, you would be surprised just how personal it really is."

"Look," Potter said in a reasonable, professor-like tone "we barely know each other, Drayia, and I hope we can know each other better. You seem like a really nice person, and though I respect you, I fail to see why I must like all the people you like. People can be friends, -- or more than friends without having to agree on everything, you know."

"Could you at least try to like him?" Draco asked.

"Nope," Potter said stubbornly.

"But you don't even know him!" Draco said indignantly. He could feel the hope draining away from his soul, leaving only emptiness behind. He had always loved Potter, and somewhere inside, he had hoped Potter could feel the same. Now, if Potter saw through his disguise, he would walk away and never look back. This frightened him, and Draco Malfoy hated fear. Fear always lead to a deep, all-consuming rage, and when the flames of rage died away, Draco was left with that yawning emptiness which then inspired fear.

"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea," Potter said, giving Draco a very strange look. "You're scaring me."

"I'm scaring you, am I Potter?" Draco asked silkily. "You don't respect me anymore? Don't want to be more than friends with me now because I'm a Malfoy, because you feel sorry for yourself, is that it?"

Slowly and deliberately, Draco was backing Potter into one of the dark corners at the back of the dance floor. He wished fervently for Father's staff topped with the familiar head of a silver Serpent. He wanted to strike Potter, beat him, crush him, demand his respect and attention by proving his superiority with physical force. Potter was scared of him? Good! Fear hurt, and Draco wanted Potter to hurt. Draco wanted Potter to hurt with fear because his rejection was only moments away, and that would cause Draco pain. Nobody hurt Draco without ending up hurt themselves. Tom had always called this Draco's pain for pain issue.

"I'm sorry," Harry said gently, his voice breaking through Draco's thoughts. "If I had known Malfoy was your brother, I would have agreed to try and like him at least a little. I know how important family is, believe me."

The sincerity in those emerald eyes melted Draco's hard shield of anger. He felt stupid for having wanted to beat Potter with Father's staff, and he wondered why that thought had even crossed his mind. He had sworn to himself never to be like Father, never to hurt just for the power of it, and yet, given the chance, Draco would have done that very thing just moments ago.

"Drayia?" Harry asked softly, wiping away a tear Draco hadn't known was there. "What is it? What are you thinking?"

"Nothing -- Harry," Draco said, smiling slightly. "Let's get out of here."

"That's fine with me," Harry said agreeably, guiding Draco off the dance floor with an arm about his waist. "Gay clubs freak me out. Your place or mine?"

For a moment, Draco tried to picture his Father's reaction if he came strolling through the gates of Malfoy Manor with Harry Potter. "Your place, if it's okay," Draco said with a laugh. "I'm a Malfoy, and as such, I don't think you'd be too welcome at mine."

"No," Harry said, waving goodbye to his friends "I suppose not. Harry's friends waved back, doubled over with laughter, and Draco wondered what was so funny. Granted, they were an odd pair, but even this wouldn't warrant such mirth, would it?

"Have fun, Dray Dray!" Pansy called, waving happily.

"Bye Pans," Draco said, smiling and waving back.

"Are you ready?" Harry asked once they were out in the open air. Draco nodded, and Harry grabbed his hand, disapperating.

Once at their destination, Draco looked around. They were in the center of a small, neatly-kept livingroom. A long leather sofa sat against one wall, underneath an open window. Across from it, an overstuffed rocking chair crouched next to an end table. Nothing matched, and yet, everything seemed to go together.

"Well," Harry said with a smile "it's not exactly Malfoy Manor, but here we are."

"I like it," Draco said sincerely, smiling back. "It's a nice change.

Harry swung Draco up into his arms, carried him to the sofa, and gently set him down on it before taking a seat beside him. "I can walk, you know," Draco told him, laughing.

"I know," Harry said, encircling Draco's shoulders with a well-muscled arm "but you're a lady. You shouldn't have to all the time."

"I'm a what?" Draco asked, confused. "Oh yeah. Listen, Harry. About that, I didn't mean to deceive you but…"

But now Harry's lips were on his, and Draco forgot everything but the soft, all-consuming warmth that was Harry's kiss. Draco's arms wound about Harry's neck of their own volition as the kiss deepened, as emerald met blue-gray in an unbreakable gaze. Harry broke the kiss at last, pulling Draco effortlessly up onto his lap and holding him close.

"Look Malfoy," he said, resting his cheek against Draco's hair "I don't care who you are, I don't care who your parents are, and I don't care that you looked like you could have killed me back there. There we were, you and I against the world with all those gay people everywhere, and I knew."

And he knew! Draco let Harry's last three words sink in. He knew everything! It had taken him a long, long time, but now Harry knew and loved him anyway! Draco was relieved. Three hours had passed, and he could feel the voice modification spell wearing off. He had been afraid it would wear off before he had a chance to tell Harry the truth, but now, it didn't matter.

Believe it or not," Draco said, his voice suddenly back at its original depth "I've always loved you, Harry."

"You-you what?" Harry stared, goggle-eyed. "You're a, -- I mean, -- you're, --Malfoy?"

"Of course I am," Draco said, confused. "You just said you knew."

"Right," Harry said, color rising in his cheeks "I said I knew! I meant that I knew you were the girl for me, but you're not a girl at all!" Forcefully shoving Draco away, Harry jumped to his feet and ran for the door.

"Harry, wait," Draco said pleadingly. "Listen to me. I didn't mean to trick you. Well, not for long anyway. I was just, …"

But Harry had opened the door and fled. Draco stood to go after him, but Tom put a restraining hand on his shoulder. "Let him go, Draco," Tom said with gruff gentleness.

"No!" Draco protested, wheeling around in their shared mind so that he and Tom were face to face. "I have to go after him! I need to explain!"

"Don't make me take power from you, boy," Tom threatened. "If you go after Potter now, you'll only make things worse. He lives here, remember? Let him come to you when he's cooled down. Then you can explain."

"Why are you helping me, Tom?" Draco asked, suspiciously.

Tom sighed, brushing the question away with a dismissive jesture. "It gets ruddy boring living in the back of your pathetic mind. A man's gotta have some entertainment, you know."

"And I'm entertaining?" Draco asked.

"Not very," was Tom's response "but the Draco and Potter show is at least something to watch while I wait to rule the world."

This earned Tom a sad smile. "Tom, you know you'll never rule the world."

"You're right," he said smugly "but together, we will."

"But Tom," Draco said logically "I'll never rule the world either, and you know it."

"I know no such thing!" Tom said vehemently. "Why in Merlin's name do you deme yourself incapable of doing something as simple as ruling the world?"

"Simple?" Draco was increduless. "Ruling the wourld would be anything but simple. Besides, I'm not the one to do it. I can't even rule Harry's world."

"Ah, Potter again." Tom yawned. "All right, Draco. First, we'll get you ruling Potter's world, as you so tritely put it. Then, we'll rule the real world! How about that?"

"But-but how?" Draco asked, fighting back the tears that threatened so ominously.

The tears fell anyway, and rather than laughing at Draco's weakness as he usually would, Tom wiped them while at the same time pretending not to see. "I'm assuming you aren't thinking of your political interests and asking me how we will rule the world, correct?"

"I don't care about the world!" Draco said angrily. "I don't care about anything! Maybe I should just leave."

"Leave?" Tom asked impatiently. "You want to leave and give up your precious Potter? Leave and give him the easy way out?" Tom grabbed Draco by the sholders and yanked him closer. "You listen to me, you insipid, pathetic little pessimist! The boy who lived to screw you over was in a gay club! He was sober, and by the looks of him, he was under no imperious curse, and believe me, I know my imperious curses. When he walked in to that club, he, like everyone else in the universe, knew that in a gay club, no actual woman would give a man the time of day. If someone in a dress comes to dance with you and you're a man, you know damn well that he is no more female than you! Potter likes you a whole hell of a lot if he voluntarily took you to his house, but as always, he has to play the innocent little victim. Aww poor Harry, tricked in to bed by his arch rival! Well you know what Draco, it's not going to work this time! You are going to park your arss right there on that couch and wait for Potter to come home. Then the two of you, or him and I, are going to have a long, long talk about the way he's behaved!"

Draco stared. Never before had he seen Tom speak so much to him, so angrily, and so on his behalf. "But tom," he said after a minute "I lied to him. He thought I was my own sister, and I did nothing to…"

"Draco Lucius Malfoy!" Tom broke in. "Are you listening to yourself? Harry thought you were your own sister? Everyone in the wizarding world knows you don't have a sister! Potter was just pretending to think you might have a sister so he wouldn't have to admit to himself that he is, Merlin forbid, gay!"

"It's hopeless, Tom." Draco sighed, turning away and laying his head in his hands. It was a jesture he would never assume physically, but here in the dark sanctuary of his mind, nobody could see him. … Nobody, that is, except Tom. Draco felt himself being lifted from behind and swung around.

"I have two questions for you, little boy,"" Tom said, holding Draco off the ground "and if you answer them to my satisfaction, I will leave you to your self-pitying thoughts. Deal?"

"Fine," Draco said flatly.

"First," Tom said, beginning to spin around and around "what is your name?"

"It's Draco," Draco said, looking at Tom as though he had suddenly gone mad. "You know that."

"Ah," Tom said indulgently "but Draco what?.

"Malfoy," Draco answered, wondering where Tom was going with this.

"And what are Malfoys?" Tom asked, still spinning.

"Invinsible." Draco knew that answer without even thinking. It was one his Father had drilled in to him at an early age, dancing about the gardens while he did so, … and then it clicked. Tom was dancing him around now as Father had done then, asking the same question and looking for the same answer.

"What's your name?"

"Malfoy."

"And what are Malfoys?"

"Invinsible."

Faster and faster they spun. The mind now looked like the gardens of home, and Tom leapt over small plants, twirling Draco above his head, throwing and catching him as he asked the same question until Draco again believed it.

"What's your name?"

"Malfoy."

"And what are Malfoys?"

"Invinsible."

"What's your name!"

"Malfoy!"

"And what are Malfoys!"

"Invinsible!"

After a long, long time, Tom stopped, flopping down on the newly-imagined, perfectly manicured grass. "I'm getting entirely too old for this," he said, setting Draco down in front of him.

"I thought you said you were immortal," Draco said with a grin. "Not that that's true, you know. You're a part of me, so when I die, you die."

"Perhaps you are right," Tom said, thinking fondly of Miss Pansy Parkinson, his life, his mortality, his undoing. Unsuccessfully, he tried to imagine a world where she lay dead and buried. "But you can bet your ass I'm still as invinsible as you."

Draco lay back on the grass, closing his eyes. The long fringe of lashes against his cheeks made him look so young, so fragile, Tom mused. "Tom?" he said sleepily.

"Hmm?" Tom answered, preparing to sit watch while the boy slept.

"Thank you."


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note:

To all my loyal reviewers, I'm sorry for the long delay between chapters. My computer died, so I haven't been on line for a very long time. Tell me what you think of this chapter. Is it too weird?

Chapter Six

Lily Potter was gravely troubled indeed. Her little one had gone through quite a nasty ordeal, and there seemed to be nothing she could do to ease his mind. She had wanted to go to Harry, wanted to rap him in sheltering arms and tell him that everything would be all right, but James had advised her against it.

"I don't know much about kids, Lovely," he had said "but at Harry's age, if I had found out I'd been dooped by a gay guy, the last thing I would have wanted would be my mummy. I think that would make him feel even more gay than he already does. I've had a chat with Cedric. He'll straighten out this whole mess with our Harry."

"He does have a way of doing that," Lily had agreed.

Now, the only thing she could think to do was take Harry's body somewhere beautiful, somewhere safe where the two boys could talk. To her, Hogwarts seemed the best choice. It was familiar, and at this hour, nobody would bother them there. Harry's little friend Hermione was now the headmistress, so even if somebody did see Harry, nothing would come of it. She made her way down the familiar paths of what had once been her home away from home. Hogwarts was so peaceful by night, and as she always did, Lily fell in love with the beautiful grounds lying parallel to the beautiful sky. It was the kind of place that, even before she had been told of her powers, Lily would have imagined full of mystical fairies and other beautiful things of magic.

"Hullo there, Harry!" a friendly voice greeted out of the darkness.

Lily pulled herself from her reverie and looked about her for Harry. Then, belatedly, she remembered that she was occupying Harry's body, and anyone who saw her would see him instead. The person who now thought she was Harry stood head and shoulders taller than even the tallest man Lily had ever seen. Kind, beetle black eyes smiled down at her through a bushy beard.

"And hello to you, Hagrid," she said, smiling up at the half-giant. "What brings you out of your warm hut this night?"

Hagrid gave her a strange look. "Harry? My boy, are ya feelin' all right?"

"Why of course I am, Hagrid," Lily assured him with a sweet smile. "I had a bit of a mishap with a Malfoy tonight, but other than that, everything is just lovely with I."

"Ur, right," Hagrid said uncertainly. "Lovely. Ya wanna come inside a piece and tell me 'bout this mishap?"

"All right," Lily agreed. "I suppose you should know about what happened from me before the poor things end up all over the Daily Profit."

"Poor things?" Hagrid asked. "Come on. We'll talk 'bout this over tea 'n rock cakes."

Lily followed behind him, stepping carefully. She had to walk in a very lady-like fashion to avoid tripping over the dress she wore. Harry, of course, was not wearing a dress, but even though she was walking in his skin, Lily could see and feel the dress her spirit wore as though it were physically adorning the body of her dear son. Lily supposed she could change into a transparent outfit more like the one her temporary body was wearing to prevent her from walking differently than Harry would, but even though Hagrid wouldn't see it, she couldn't possibly change her clothes in front of him. Still, Lily knew she needed to act as much like Harry as possible. She reminded herself to always refer to Harry as I. Sirius always said that out of all of them, she was the worst at acting like Harry. James had told her once that if she ever had to occupy Harry's body around people, she should make a game of it.

"Lovely, why don't you pretend that Harry's name is I. Instead of 'Harry won at Quidditch' it's 'I won.' Do you think you can do that?"

She had thought so, and he had smiled at her. Lily's eyes glistened as she thought of how she loved him. James was so good, so fun, so patient. James was her earth and sky, her air and water, her waking and her sleep.

"Must've been a real nice mishap," Hagrid said, opening the door to his hut.

"Well, not really," Lily said ruefully. "It was actually quite bothersome." She lifted her skirts, sitting daintily in one of the wooden chairs at Hagrid's table.

"Could've fooled me," Hagrid chuckled, preparing tea. "What with the way ya were smilin' all the way here 'n all."

"Oh." Lily smiled dreamily, eyes closing half way in sweet recollection. "Oh that. No no, I wasn't smiling about that, dear Hagrid. I was just thinking of how lucky I am to have…"

"Noooo!!" Albus Dumbledore's warning shout echoed through Harry's mind as he ran through the wall immediately to Lily's left. Taking her shoulders, Albus gently but firmly propelled her to the backmost recesses of Harry's body.

"My word! I never saw yer face go so blank before. Are ya all right?" No Answer. "Harry?" Hagrid asked concerned. "My boy, ya need rest. With Quidditch, writin' yer novels, 'n medical school, I think yer a bit scattered."

"Perhaps you are right, Hagrid," Albus agreed, making himself comfortable in Harry's body and folding his hands under his chin. "I suppose a long raspberry bubble bath, a good book, and some nice wool socks are in order. I'll be right as rain by morning."

"Professor Dumbledore used to say that," Hagrid said, looking at Albus very strangely.

"Yes," Albus agreed, smiling at his old friend. "Some things never change. Now, how about that tea? I really must tell you about that debacle with young Draco."

"Young, Draco?" Hagrid asked. "Harry, Draco's twenty same as you."

"Oh, right," Albus agreed with a chuckle. "Don't mind me, Hagrid. As you said, I'm a bit scattered. With his level of immaturity, Draco seems so much younger, you see."

Hagrid chuckled, looking puzzled but relieved. "Well, y'know I never liked the little beast. I spose he was a might immature. Never really thought about it, though."

Hagrid set out the tea cups, saucers, and a large plate of rock cakes. Albus watched him thoughtfully, a smile playing upon his lips. Gentle Hagrid was always a source of warm feelings for the former headmaster, and death had done nothing to change that. So many were the times he had wanted to take his friendship with Hagrid further, and so many were the times he had not for fear of putting him in danger.

"There yer eyes go a'sparklin' again," Hagrid teased. "Are ya sure that mishap was as much of a bother as yer lettin' on?"

"Oh it was," Albus said with a chuckle, mentally telling himself to tell the story as though he were Harry. "You see, Dean and Seamus took me to agay dance establishment. There, I met Draco Malfoy."

"'N then?" Hagrid pressed, taking a drink of his tea.

"He was dressed very fashionably in a blue dress," Albus continued "and I mistook him for a young lady. I proceeded to leave the establishment with him, and only when his voice modification spell wore off did I realize he wasn't a girl at all, but a boy."

"Aw Harry," Hagrid said smiling good-naturedly "y'know as well as I do that girls 'n boys don't dance together in gay clubs. Yer gay, aren't ya?"

"Harry Potter? Gay?" Albus asked, trying unsuccessfully not to smile at the obserdity of the idea. Harry, he knew, would not be smiling if he were having this conversation. "Come now, Hagrid. Do I really strike you as the homosexual type?"

"Well," Hagrid singsonged "there was that little thing ya had goin' with the dear departed Mr. Diggory. Member that?"

"Mr. Diggory?" Albus felt his eyes go wide. "You mean young Cedric? My word! I never would have guessed. I really must ask Harry about that later."

"There ya go with that callin' people young that ain't thing again," Hagrid said, perplexed. "Cedric was older than you. 'N ya are Harry, remember?"

"I most certainly, …" just in time, Albus remembered. "I most certainly am. Merlin. I'm so tired I don't know what I'm saying."

"Right," Hagrid said uncertainly. "Harry, ya wanna stay here tonight? If ya don't even remember yer own name, it's probably not safe for ya to be travellin' tonight."

Albus chuckled. "Hagrid, as appealing an offer as that is, I simply must get back to Harry's – to my flat. There's a bit of a Draco Malfoy lodged within, and before my bubble bath, I must extricate him."

"Harry!" Hagrid's face took on an expression of mock horror. "Ya took him home with ya? Ya were gonna keep him all night long?"

"Well, you see," Albus fixed his gaze on the tabletop.

"Say no more," Hagrid said, beaming. "Ya can go now 'n, ur, extricate the magnificent Malfoy from yer flat."

"Magnificent?" Albus asked, amused. "Hagrid, Mr. Malfoy is many things, but magnificent is not one of them."

"Aw come on Harry!" Hagrid laughed. "It's me. Hagrid. Member me? Obviously ya think he's magnificent if ya took him home. It's not like ya to do things like that, so I know there's somethin' to this little incident with Malfoy."

"Well, you see, Hagrid," Albus explained on Harry's behalf "I was completely unaware of his identity."

"Maybe he wore a dress," Hagrid said "'n maybe his voice changed, but Harry, ya'd still have been able to recognize him. Least I would. His face was the same, right?"

"It was all made up," Albus told him. "Lipstick, eye makeup, blush, the whole thing. Plus, he was wearing a wig."

"Were his eyes the same color?" Hagrid asked.

"Well, yes but," Albus tried lamely.

"Then ya knew deep down in yer soul that it was Malfoy."

"Draco told me his name was Drayia and that he was his own twin sister," Albus explained, realizing at once how rediculess it sounded.

"His what?" Hagrid asked. "His sister? Harry, don't ya think if Malfoy had a squib twin sister that information would leak out in the media somehow?"

"Squib?" Albus asked.

"Well, she'd've had to be a squib," Hagrid confirmed. "Either that, or ol' Lucius would've had to've sent her to another school of magic. If he'd've done that, her accomplishments would still've got in to the papers."

"Oh," Albus said, admiring the tabletop anew. "Actually, she said she went to Hogwarts with her brother."

"Her twin brother?" Hagrid asked. "Why didn't ya see her with him, then? Were they not on speakin' terms? Were they in different houses? Maybe she was a Hufflepuff."

"Well, not exactly," Albus said. "According to the story I was told, Draco and Drayia were very close. They went to the same school and resided in the same house."

"Tush," Hagrid laughed, holding his sides with mirth. "Similar names, same school, same house, same everythin'? Harry my boy, sounds like Malfoy was droppin' obvious hints to ya all night long to let ya know who he was."

"Well," Albus said thoughtfully "when you say it like that, I can see how it could look that way."

"It lookse that way," Hagrid said gently "cause it is that way. Harry, yer gay. Either that or ya have a likin' for both girls 'n boys. Either way, it's okay with me. Ya don't have to hide anythin'. I won't judge ya."

"Hagrid," Albus said seriously "I assure you I am only interested in members of the opposite sex. This incident with Draco Malfoy may have been a laps in judgement but…"

"Yer lyin' to me," Hagrid said softly. "Yer afraid, Harry, 'cause ya've got a real big image to live up to. Look Mate, it's all right to be gay. It doesn't make ya less of a man." Hagrid stood, walking across the table to stand beside Albus. "Look at me." He flexed his massive muscles, straightening to his full height. "Would I be less of a man if I told ya I was gay?"

Albus gazed. The years had only enhanced the half giant's good looks. He was tall and strong, and with his dark hair and beard shining in the moonlight coming in from a nearby window, he looked to Albus like an ark angel come to earth. "Are you?" he asked.

"I am," Hagrid said simply.

"With who?" Albus couldn't avoid asking.

"Never anyone, Harry," Hagrid replied. "Ya see, I always loved professor Dumbledore."

"You did?" Albus asked, unbelieving.

"Course I did," Hagrid said with a whistful smile. "Never told him, though. What would a powerful wizard like that want with me? But now, -- now as he's gone 'n all, I'm of a mind to think I wish I had."

Albus stood, rapping his arms as far as they would reach around the friend he had loved for so long. "I'm sorry," he said earnestly. "I'm sorry life wove all our destinies in the way it did, but I have it on good authority that Albus always loved you as well."

Hagrid returned the embrace, gently resting his head against Albus's. "Harry my boy," Hagrid said, his kind face breaking in to a broad smile "if ya were anyone else, I wouldn't believe ya, but since yer you, I know yer right. Dunno how ya know, but I know yer tellin' me the truth."

"Thank you for believing me, Hagrid," Albus said softly. "It is the truth."

"'N thank ya for tellin' me, Harry," Hagrid replied. "I spose ya found out from the pensive he left ya in his will. I'm reall glad ya told me."

"As am I, Hagrid," Albus said gently. "As am I."

Harry stood by the lake, looking solemnly down at his reflection. He still looked the same, but was he? He had the same green eyes, but only hours earlier, they had looked with love in to the eyes of another man. The same lightning scar rested on his forehead, a symbol of all he'd endured and survived, but could he survive this? Could Harry really, while keeping his dignity and sanity, go on with life knowing that he had consensually engaged in a homosexual experience?

Harry was devastated, but worse than that, he was furious! What would Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon say if they knew how far he'd fallen from grace? What would his parents say if they'd been watching? The frightening fact was, they very well could have been! As much as he hated to admit it, even to himself, Harry was very extraordinary. He could see spirits, talk to them in his mind, and even hold them in his body if they wished. Since his mum and dad often settled comfortably in Harry's body with him, they knew it well enough to enter undetected.

"Harry?" A man's voice asked from behind him.

"Dad?" Harry asked, not turning to face his visitor.

"No," the man said, laying a hand on Harry's shoulder. "It's Cedric. Your dad and I got to talking, and he thinks I'm the best one to help you with things right now."

"There's no helping this, Mate," Harry said, sitting down beside the calm, star-flecked water. "So Dad knows about – Malfoy? Who else, Cedric? Everyone?"

Cedric nodded gravely, sitting his shimmering form down beside Harry's wholly solid one and floating slightly. "I'm sorry, Harry. None of us meant to spy on you. It's just that we all know how much you hate gays, and you were going in to a really uncomfortable situation. We wanted to be here if things got out of hand. That's all."

"Then why didn't any of you help me?!" Harry asked angrily. "Why did you let him, -- let me – let things get out of hand that way?!"

"I don't know how he was doing it," Cedric began "but Malfoy was projecting feminine energy at us. We thought he was a girl just as much as you did."

"Damn him!" Harry said, throwing a rock into the water. "He shouldn't be allowed to do that!"

"No, Harry," Cedric said gently, draping a reassuring arm around his shoulders. "Of course he shouldn't, but the fact is, he did. Now you have two choices."

Harry leaned against Cedric, not meeting his gaze. "Yeah Mate, two choices. I can run away forever, maybe move back in with Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, or I can go home and beat the holy living tar out of him. Right?"

Not even close," Cedric chuckled. "Harry, Malfoy is in your house. All your stuff is there, so even if you do choose to seek the not very comforting protection of your aunt and uncle, you will still be subjected to that awkward confrontation I know you want so desperately to avoid."

"DAMN!" Harry yelled, throwing an even bigger rock into the water. "What if I haven't convinced Draco, … Malfoy that I really thought he was a girl? What if he never believes me! What if he thinks I'm a…" Harry lowered his voice to a whisper "closet gay."

"Well," Cedric said conversationally "then he tells all his friends who tell all their friends. Then, you'll wake up one morning, reach for The Daily Profit, and find an article about your 'double life' plastered all over the front page."

Harry groaned. "Oh Merlin! Cedric, this is terrible! What can I do? What can I do?!"

"Like I was saying, Harry," came Cedric's gentle reply "you have two choices. You can go in to hiding for the next thirty years until this story blows over, or you can be gay with Malfoy."

"Me? Gay? With Malfoy?" Harry held his face in his hands, trying to stop the oncoming wave of nausea from overtaking him.

"Ah ah," Cedric admonished, cupping Harry's chin in a gentle hand and turning his face so their eyes met. "Hear me out. Try it for a week. Then, when you break it off with Malfoy, people can no longer accuse you of keeping a closed mind about homosexuals. If people try to press gayness on you, you can tell them you already tried it and found that it wasn't for you. Harry, this experience with Malfoy will find its way to the presses regardless of what you do. If you break it off with him after a week, people will probably assume it was his fault. If you break it off with him tonight, Malfoy can play the victim, and do you really want that?"

"No!" Harry said vehemently. "He has no right! I'm the victim here!" The thought of Draco using this situation to his advantage filled Harry with icy rage.

"Then fight back!" Cedric said, squeezing Harry's shoulder. "Let Malfoy's desire end in his destruction."

"I will, then!" Harry agreed. "But Cedric?"

"Hmmm?"

"I'm really not, -- well you know."

"Gay?" Cedric guessed.

"Right," Harry confirmed. "I know I need to be with Malfoy for a week, but how?"

Gently, Cedric ran a transparent hand down Harry's cheek. Harry jumped back, startled, but the caress was not the cause of Harry's alarm. As Cedric's hand made its way down Harry's cheek, the skin broke apart. Silvery blood ran down, and when Harry looked closer, he saw that the rip was a hole, pierced all the way through his friend's hand. Cedric's other hand also bore this cruel-looking hole, bleeding silver as though newly pierced.

"Cedric?" Harry asked, concerned.

"Harry?" Cedric asked in response, smiling gently.

"Are you – are you all right?" Harry asked, staring fixedly at the bleeding wounds.

"Of course," Cedric told him, confused. He followed Harry's gaze. "Oh, that! Harry, don't worry. It's just my stigmata acting up again."

"Your, what?" Harry asked.

"Never mind that," Cedric said with a shrug. "It's important, but not for now. All I will tell you is that the marks that can never fade are bleeding for the task I am about to undertake."

"Cedric," Harry said, concerned "I don't understand."

Cedric sighed, his eyes looking suddenly old. "It isn't for you to understand, Harry. Just trust that my strength will be enough to carry you through the time you will be bound to Malfoy, and all will be well." Gently, Cedric slid inside Harry's body, pushing him back. "Go now. I'll handle this."

Reluctantly, Harry obeyed. Cedric was acting strangely, but somehow, Harry knew that all his questions would be answered in time. For now, he would trust, hide, and wish his brave friend all the luck in the world. With Draco, he was going to nneed it.


End file.
